Self-Isolation - I

All in form or a fine

As per the mandatory CoVID-19 precautionary measures of the UK and England in particular, I am just completing the 1^st of 10 full days of self-isolation (quarantine) because I was in South Africa. During the last week of my sojourn in South Africa, the UK had the requirement of a negative CoVID-19 test or the risk of a £500 fine within 72 hours of my departure effective from 4:00 AM on the 15^th of January.

I took my test on Thursday and it would have just fallen within the 72-hour range, but by the time I got the result, the government website had updated the effective date moving it back 72 hours. In any case, I still needed the test because it was checked at the check-in counter for my local travel from Cape Town to Johannesburg and then when I was about to traverse customs and immigration in Johannesburg.

Another requirement from the UK was filling in a Passenger Locator form within 48 hours of arrival with details of where I was travelling from, where I will be transiting through, Paris, in this instance, and where I will be staying for my compulsory self-isolation which could attract fines of up to £10,000 if broken.

We are slow on the uptake

The checks were quite efficient in South Africa, masks compulsory, hands sanitised, temperature checked registration at the lounges. There was a tracking and tracing system in play with notifications from the South African authorities obtained from when I registered for the test.

Through the flight from Johannesburg to Paris, we had to keep our masks on and AirFrance offered mask to everyone whilst strictly requiring those with cloth masks to change to standard-issue surgical masks. In Paris, I was a bit concerned because the lounge did begin to fill up and the social distancing requirement was not that adhered to. The transit bus to the flight we boarded from Paris to Manchester had us packed in like sardines.

When we arrived in The UK on Sunday in the early afternoon, there were no checks whatsoever. Whilst there were hand sanitising stations, I was through the e-Passport gate in a minute and in a black taxi with windows open in the cold for ventilation after baggage reclaim in under 15 minutes.

Speaking foreign like English

Just before noon, I received a phone call, an unknown number but the lady on the other end with a foreign-sounding accent, presumably Indian was calling on behalf of the UK Government for public health purposes to inform me that my household and I need to self-isolate for 10 days. All that information I already knew. One of the questions she asked was whether I would like to continue the conversation in English, I did not ask what alternative languages were available, Welsh, Gaelic or Yoruba, Dutch, maybe Afrikaans, if she spoke slowly enough.

It was like the information I had submitted that included my passport particular had no significance. I was also back to work, my accounts needed to be reactivated as they were disabled when I was away. A long slow day, it was. There are only 9 more days to go.

Checking up

Setting up

A few months ago, my biannual consultation was scheduled for a week later than originally planned. I had a mental note of the date but was unsure and I did not want to miss the appointment, so I called the hospital to determine when the time and date would be.

Having entered the appointment times on my patient card and my calendar with a few alert notifications for two days, a day and an hour before my appointment. The precision and timing are necessary as if I do arrive for my appointment flustered or in a hurry, the momentary reading of my blood pressure is irregular and by that, concerning.

Slicking up

As I had no other plans for the day, I could not fathom why my night’s sleep was a bit disturbed, I was awake for most of the night, maybe in anticipation of my consultation as in the intervening time between the last and now, I had had my pills changed for 7 weeks of hell which I documented in a 47 -day diary to convince the specialist nurses that I should be allowed to go back on the prescription that had served me well since May 2010.

Whilst my original prescription could introduce neuro-cognitive impairment in some subjects, the lapses I have noticed seemed to be highly compensated for, that it did not bother me that much. My doctors used that to impose by relentless persuasion from a choice of 4 different medications, a choice that theoretically would not have changed my routine even though one of the side effects if that was not scary enough was sudden death.

Ticking up

The side effects I endured apart from flatulence, insomnia, nerve twitches, unexplained aches, vivid dreams, constipation and a host of other forgettable experiences that made life almost a living nightmare made me remonstrate ever so strongly against trying another cocktail of medications besides the ones I stopped using just over 7 weeks before.

Also, I had undergone the colonoscopy that involved the excision of a benign polyp and all these events almost scuppered my desire to visit South Africa for the Christmas holidays. The medication would have affected my travel insurance as you are asked if you had changed medication in the previous 30 days, then the advice after a colonoscopy is not to fly for at least two weeks after the procedure.

Then, usually, one would do some blood work a fortnight before the consultation, but there was a lot of work-related travel in the last month that I could not find the time for a phlebotomy session. It all culminated in making today of the utmost importance.

Keeping up

I arrived for my consultation on time, sat on the weighing stool that elicited readings on the higher end of the scale I normally dread. My blood pressure readings had the nurse intone, I was a rather ‘chilled-out’ person. This amongst other comments about my dressing.

I met up with the chief consultant of the department, we met a few years before when having done my reading up on her research and career history, I probably was better equipped for our meeting than she was acquainted with my medical notes. We have a healthy rapport and sitting in with her was a student. I welcome students to my consultations as this exposes them to real-life scenarios necessary for them to appreciate what it takes to practice medicine and it could open aspects of medical research that might better help others in the future.

Making up

We discussed my state of health, the change of medication, the post-procedure results and what led to the procedure, my mental state of health and other sundry matters of the heart and social life. My medication would switch to generics as it is now out of patent and as I am visiting South Africa soon, we needed to determine whether any of the places I would visit are in a malaria zone.

I have to be mindful of this, if I decide to visit Victoria Falls, Harare and Bulawayo are safe. Another appointment is scheduled for 6 months’ time, but it was a relief that the spectre of Brexit did not impact on obtaining my medication. I was a bit concerned about it.

At the end of my consultation, I gave a urine sample and offered up 5 vials of blood, in a few weeks I should get the results. It was a good day.

Like swallowing a poison pill

This is scary stuff

When I opened the packet of my new medication just over three weeks ago, reading through the medical notes was an experience in itself. Then, I had to tear off a “Patient Alert Card”, to which I wrote in my doctor’s details and was at all times to carry the card with me.

If I were to have a hypersensitive reaction, I was not to ingest any more of the medicine as I risked a life-threatening lowering of my blood pressure or even death. Before I took the medication for the first time, I already had the severe side-effect of a psychological upset.

Having done my research of the options, it is fair to say that the documented side-effects are a compendium of misery, it is no wonder that it is reported that the attrition rate of switching back to old formulary is close to 50%.

I needed another review

I kept a diary of the side-effects I suffered over a period of 16 days before our first review that was to completely switch me fully to the new medication for the next 6 months before another consultation. I did not think 16 days was long enough to make that decision, as adjusting to new medication would normally take longer and I would rather we had an assessment to ascertain the efficacy of the new regime than to discover a treatment failure 6 months hence.

The side-effects included insomnia, a tingling skin rash, a feeling of constipation, joint ache and flatulence amongst other minor complaints and two episodes of vivid dreams as nightmares that left me unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

At the review, I was asked why I made the switch as I was seeing another medical personnel who did not know that I had been nagged by the department to consider a switch for almost two years. My understanding was the switch was necessary because this new line of drugs had lesser side-effects and obviously they cost less.

What kind of a pill is this?

I was comfortable with the medication I have been on for over 8 years, the issues I had with my memory were well compensated for, I would not have considered a switch for the kinds of side-effects that I have recently suffered. Bloods were drawn and we agreed to meet in three weeks for a second review.

Meanwhile, I am taking my pills 2 hours earlier than before with no change to many of the side-effects, especially insomnia. I am also keeping my diary as a documented trail of how I feel, which is not helped by my realising that I am gaining weight – apparently, this is one of the other side-effects and no new medication is worthwhile if psychologically you are left bothered by a negative body image, the danger of sudden death and much else.

Have I decided on a poison pill?

On becoming anyone's guinea pig

Wards of discomfort

I have known hospitals from the very first day of my life that they do not seem that strange to me, but many a place have I been that it might not be as welcoming as to make one feel well.

In the last few weeks, I have 4 visits, check-ups, assessments, observations and talks, some could well be unsettling if not for a rather calm exterior. For it, all began with a suspicion, whether a growth, she could not tell, but it came with a referral.

Meanwhile, in another place we had a discussion for a change of medication, in my research, of the 4 options presented, none seemed like a safe transition as the listed side-effects were fearsomely avoidable if one just stuck to what one was already on for 8 years already.

Yet, they say, these are newer efficacious drugs, but the news out there suggests over 50% have returned to their original medication just because of the side effects.

A belly prod

At the referral, I could not say the consultant was pleasant. Much as I was invited to see another consultant who I had read up on, the one I saw had a bedside manner that served me lots of discomfort. The hand I offered was not taken and the introduction was mumbled or maybe I had suddenly become hard of hearing.

He referenced the notes, asked a few questions and then had me on the gurney but called in a chaperone nurse before he did anything. For God’s sake, I have been violated by medicine too many times to be concerned by a poke, prod or prick, but needs must for all the reasons in the world.

I felt no pain as his hands did the feeling all around my abdomen and elsewhere before I dressed up and he returned to the desk to scribble away. He was recommending a colonoscopy and a phlebotomy, whilst I was thinking, I would rather be with the people who know a lot more about me.

Pills of life

Then we decided, that was the best, it means my doctor who over almost three years has collected sheaves of medical material about me, but I have never met would be arranging for me to visit a department of probing analysts.

In all, I am now in new medication for which the side-effects have not been that serious, we would review the situation next week, at which point it might well be a full transition. My medication comes in a little box with a difference, I found I had to peel off a card that suggested certain side-effects could be life-threatening. Now, that is scary stuff. I have to travel with a card listing my doctor’s details.

I chose this because it offered no change in pill burden or mode of consumption, I could still take it at the same time as with my old pills and now, with or without meals. If I do suffer pyrexia; a medical type for having a fever, have a skin rash which might well be invisible considering, have shortness of breath, feel queasy, have a sore throat or a cough, I should consult my doctor immediately.

Just writing all that makes me feel unwell, but I thrive. Now, what is an umbilical hernia? That came from the prodding and poking. Whilst I protest that it is my body first before it is anyone’s guinea pig, sometimes, I find myself the latter, just because I am the former.

Blogging: Facing the shame of my bad writing

As an experiment, I am counting the number of times I edit this blog after I first clicked the Publish button: 6

I am still learning to write

I have to admit I have a problem too many ideas course through my active mind and with that the desire to tap at my keyboard and produce a blog. I have been doing this for a long time; I am in my tenth year of blogging.

When I first started blogging, I passed my copy through a grammar and writing style checker to ascertain the readability of what I have written and found that it consistently registered too high on the scale for it to cater to a broad reading audience.

Checking grammar and readability

The grammar checker became a moderating influence as I tried to make my thoughts easier to access and thus easier to read. Shorter paragraphs, shorter sentences, and sentences I could read back to myself without pausing to understand why I wrote that way, captioning and much else came into my writing.

Still, I end up doing a poor job of it; the ideas are generally sound but riddled with errors. These errors are rarely of the spelling kind but of the grammatical context, writing style and readability kind.

The strange thing is I have not been able to bring the kind of rigour I give to business writing to blogging as if it is a mind-set thing and hence my problem compounded.

I can return

I find safety and refuge in my blog, I am able to constantly review, edit, correct, rephrase, and refine what I have written without the need for an intermediary, because it is my space.

I carry my shame constantly reminded that though my mother tongue is English and I pride myself in the ability to express myself excellently, I am still a very bad writer.

Inspiration and review

What I have noticed with my writing is that the flow of inspiration is quite different from context of review. Somehow, I have found that if I lose the first draft of anything I have written I am usually unable to recreate that flow of inspiration again.

I do feel that loss deeply and that is why I prefer to create my blogs on an offline editor, because each time I have done it on an online editor, I have lost everything. This happened only a few days ago – I have not been able to reproduce that inspirational burst since then.

Mind apart

I say to people, when I have my fingers to the keyboard, I am like a man possessed; my fingers trying to keep up with the torrent of phraseology churning in my mind, much of which is fully formed in my mind but my fingers rarely keeping up with it.

My senses then fail to spot what I have left out; between what I was thinking and what I eventually wrote; my sight deceived into thinking they are the same.

Reading to my hearing

At one time, I took to reading my draft blogs out to myself as an editing process; I still do that for my most important pieces. Nevertheless, I am quite impatient because my newly crafted blog feels like bread just taken out of the oven, the aroma, the warmth, the softness and everything that makes freshly baked bread enraptures you, you want some of it, there and then.

Therefore, you finish the blog, give it a scant review, annotate it, caption it, format it and publish it, satisfied that the job is done. Hours, days, weeks, months or even years later, you go back to read that blog and palm to face embarrassment – Did I really write that?

In the heat of the moment, I did, but because it is my blog, I can review, edit, correct, update and constantly do that for the lifetime of the blog – a blog is never finished – it is a living document and that is because, I am really a bad writer.

Readability Statistics

I enabled the grammar and style checker for this blog, but it was not used for this section of the blog. Between the first attempt at writing this blog, and what you can read now, I improved on the readability but lost some of the literary and artistic license I take in how I write. I guess that is what really makes me a bad writer.

The Readability Statistics of my very first draft 

The Readability Statistics after 20 minutes of editing the first draft.

 

I think there is much room for improvement.

Editorial: Thirteenth of May 2011

The guilty roam free

The credit crisis which has been felt globally for the past few years still has the architects of this catastrophe rolling in the quids without a care in the world.

Many have wondered how this happened and why it was pre-empted as the professionals have continually feigned that it caught them unawares.

The investigations of a US Senate committee have yielded grounds for indictments to be brought against first Goldman Sachs for basically playing both the market and their clients in fanciful financial products whilst divest themselves of their liabilities and cajoling other institutions to buying up what they knew for sure was worthless.

Untying the Gordian knot

The Rolling Stones article lays out the case of The People versus Goldman Sachs in such fine detail with the use of useful vivid analogies that the layman would catch on to what an almighty confidence trick this was.

This was work that the regulators and the Department of Justice should have done but were both derelict in their duties and suborned into a dastardly evil capitalist enterprise that has robbed everyone blind and made the gangsters of banking otherwise known as “Banksters” the masters of the world.

Now that the case has been made and all the footwork done, one would hope the cajones exist in the boxers, briefs, jocks or I dare say panties of those who matter to visit the full force of the law on these people and they should not relent until every dime as been paid including interest.

The world would never forgive us if these banksters get away with the biggest highwayman’s looting of the bullion ever.

Roam to Rome

Schengen, a town in Luxembourg where in 1985 European countries agreed to relax border controls allowing free movement within European borders, it represented a kind of unity amongst Europeans between 22 states.

It has worked a treat for Europeans as a sign of integration and unity without the encumbrance of passport checks, inane questions at customs and every other inconvenience that pertains to traversing borders.

The Arab uprising on the Southern coast of the Mediterranean Sea has been a matter of concern already but the unrest in Libya has brought it to a head.

Apparently, Colonel Gaddafi, the besieged and buffeted leader of Libya is allowing the untrammelled flow of sub-Saharan Africans and others across the sea to Malta and Lampedusa in Italy creating panic on those islands along with the administrative and logistic nightmares of processing these asylum seekers.

Visas made wiser

With no one responding to Italy’s concerns about this influx, the Italians granted temporary visas to these aliens who under the Schengen agreement could cross borders to countries where they might feel more comfortable by reason of joining relations, being able to speak the language or recognising a country as a soft target.

That got France to sit up since a good deal of these aliens speak French and by the time you knew it, Gaddafi’s deftness had sown division amongst NATO allies on the immigration front as they try to enforce the no-fly zone in Libya.

Fresh blood for right-wing vampires

Then every little-minded country with their right-wing populist fear-mongering personality with their villager-visits-city mind-set stepped into the fray stoking angst and horror at the hordes invading their sacred lands of purity and superiority – time to race to the lowest common denominator.

Shut the gates, batten down the hatches, pull up the draw bridges, barricade the doors and let the rabid dogs roam to bite any that dare walk the streets.

Globalisation is going into decline and the nation state rises again just because the Arabs have awoken to the possibility of self-determination. What a strange world we live in.

Acknowledgements

The fantastic report about the Senate committee’s unravelling of Goldman Sachs’ con-job was published online by the Rolling Stones Magazine. Wikipedia has a webpage that explains the Schengen Area and the Schengen Agreement.

The Guardian announces the news of the furore that has erupted about the influx of aliens and the possible radical revision of Schengen.

Nigeria: Image allows immigration humiliation

Get out for protest

Naturally, as a person with Nigerian heritage I should be incensed when dignitaries from my country are humiliated by the immigration officers of other countries.

I should be waving placards in front of their embassies, launching campaigns in every forum I can find, burning flags of the outrageous countries and setting alight the effigies of the leaders of those countries.

After all that, even a grovelling apology might not suffice, we would get all our allies to embargo their goods and services and send them all to Coventry – but which time all their diplomatic corps would be persona non grata and our diplomatic ties would be at the lowest ebb as you look for a theatre for war.

Indeed, there might have been a time in the history of Nigeria when such righteous indignation might have been justified and fair.

Give them hell and more

But as I read yesterday that a former High Commissioner to South Africa and his entourage of two serving senators from Nigeria were humiliated by an immigration officer [1] in South Africa, I felt no sympathy for the Nigerians.

Nothing should warrant getting that kind of treatment from any immigration officer where it appears the lady clearly voiced her prejudice, disdain and disgust of Nigerians – especially for a country that is about to host the World Cup in 2010.

However, to think that the problem is with the immigration service in South Africa rather than with the poor international image of Nigeria and Nigerians is to entirely miss the point completely.

Now, they know

I am glad that the ex-High Commissioner and senators were roughed up and humiliated, it goes to show first all the kinds of problems ordinary Nigerians go through without the epithet of being some important dignitary whilst hurdling and running the gauntlet of immigration services all around the world.

Such first-hand knowledge can only be useful in another worthy cause, the improvement of Nigeria’s image at home and abroad – these people are in positions where they probably can begin to influence issues about Nigeria and how she is presented to the world.

If we did do good

Now, if Nigerians had really hopped on the bandwagon of dealing with corruption and nefarious activities that include fraud and other dishonest activity, I doubt the immigration officer would have said, “I do not care whether they are high profile personalities. These Nigerians need to be taught a lesson when they come here.”

This seems to be after the intervention of the Nigerian Consul-General in Johannesburg and that is because a majority of our so-called high profile personalities are people who appear to be wealthy and hedonistic to boot, but for all their wealth and clout cannot subject their fortunes to internationally acceptable audit scrutiny.

Meanwhile, people in Nigeria ignore their sources of questionable wealth and confer an aura of respectability and dignity on the self-same bandits as they roam around the world as very important Nigerians but are seen by foreigners as hardened crooks.

Connections counted for nothing

It is no wonder that with a diplomatic passport and high office a lowly immigration officer in South Africa cannot seem to trust the documents presented and all the name-dropping just incenses those immigration officers the more.

It is sad that these people could not see themselves through on their own self-recognisance that even after exhausting their connections as many self-important Nigerians do, they were still humiliated.

Our image needs some work

The job of sorting out how we are perceived abroad must be dealt with from home, the anti-graft agencies should be able to do what that they have been licensed to do, every whiff of corruption should be investigated and properly pursued to the just conclusion – people in positions of power implicated in any suspect activity should and must be relieved of their offices until proven innocent.

People who exhibit a desperation to attach themselves to political office or gain pecuniary advantages beyond what is their lawful entitlement should be exposed and denied access to their goals.

The press should be free to explore, investigate, ascertain and publish all public interest matters without fear or favour and those who feel they have been slighted should seek redress in an appropriate manner.

The little things that matter

Our armed forces should be leagues of gentlemen answerable and accountable to our political leaders, they should be of exemplary conduct and be the examples of discipline, order and professionalism that other nations of the world seek to emulate.

Our electoral processes should be informed, free, fair, just and available to every competently assessed Nigerian who pledges not to abuse the system for their own ends such that when the results are declared as a fair assessment of the unadulterated will of the people, winners can assume their offices and losers can gracefully concede.

Those who besmirch the good name of Nigeria at home and abroad should be exposed, disgraced and made to pay some restitution in rehabilitating themselves and undoing the damage they have done to Nigeria – this includes all those well-connected ruling party politicians, ex heads-of-state, corrupt business men and state governors whose names heap disgrace on our country.

Project Nigeria

In other words, there is a Project Nigeria that has been impeded, assailed, corrupted, abused and made ineffective, yielding the results of roughed-up dignitaries in foreign airports and lands.

We might well see a time when our president suffers such an indignity and it can only be because we have not honestly committed ourselves to the activities that would make others trust, respect, honour and favour Nigerians whilst holding us all up as examples of good virtue and conduct.

Next time, I expect some minister or Very Important Prick to suffer a cavity intrusion search, maybe then we might have enough people to embark on a serious mission of getting Nigeria a better name through our actions at home and abroad.

So far, I am not ready to sympathise with the senators or the high commissioner, you reap what you sow.

Source

[1] The Punch: S’African immigration official humiliates Nigerian senators, ex-envoy